


Sweet Child Of Mine

by WetSammyWinchester



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, M/M, Marking, Possessive Jensen, Reporter Jared, Rock Star Jensen, Sex Tapes, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-05-26 19:44:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6253462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WetSammyWinchester/pseuds/WetSammyWinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a show, rock star Jensen sees just what he needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Green Room - Jensen

Jensen watched from across the green room, his bottle dangling from fingertips, condensation rolling down the green glass sides as the beer got warm. 

The local reporter was seated on one of the low couches in the room, looking up at their guitarist Stephen with long eyelashes and longer legs. This young guy, Jared, laughed not with the cynicism or sticky experience of so many in their nightly entourage, but with innocent enthusiasm that had Jensen rubbing his cock through his soft leather pants with one hand while he pulled the beer to his mouth with his other hand, taking a long draw. 

Fucking Stephen. He had skill otherwise Jensen wouldn’t have brought him on tour with the band but he was useless when it came to anything other than playing guitar. He wouldn’t know what to do with the guy in front of him, other than sit on the arm of that couch talking about his hobbies or his parents back in Canada. 

Stephen wouldn’t know how to suck down those sweet pink lips, swallowing down the little moans that would follow, or how to take those slender wrists in one hand, rubbing the bones together until Jared was twisting underneath him, or how to twine his fingers through those long brown curls, yanking on them just enough to expose that swan neck so that he could leave bruises down its length, souvenirs that lasted for days after they had packed up and left town. 

Jared rolled the end of the pen between his lips, chewing on the cap as he listened intently to the rhythm guitarist. That unknowing action was like waving a red flag in front of Jensen. He brushed off a PR guy and a roadie on his way across the room, to stand above the reporter, who looked up through a fringe of soft bangs, his face breaking into dimples when he recognized the lead singer’s face. 

Dimples, this kid had fucking dimples. As he stood there looking down, all Jensen could think was whether those dimples deepened or filled out with his cock buried in that mouth. 

“Want an exclusive?“ Jensen gave him a crooked smile, his voice low and raspy from the show. 

The younger man seemed uncertain for a moment, glancing towards Stephen, who graciously waved his hand towards the singer. “Whatever Jensen wants. I’ll catch up with you later.“ 

Stephen had no fucking idea. There would be no catching up later. Jensen planned to ruin Jared tonight, leaving him marked so deep in his soul that it cause him physical pain to think about the memory.

Jared stood up and the dimples made a reappearance, along with a blush down his cheek, and Jensen’s world shifted to thoughts of long nights curled around this boy in the dark bunk of a tour bus, muffling needy sounds away from his sleeping band mates. 

“Sure, where do you want to go for this?“ 

Jensen grabbed his wrist and pulled him towards a back room. "Not far."


	2. The Back Room - Jensen

Jensen took a swig from the bottle of Jack Daniels that he grabbed out of their drummer’s hand as they dodged through the back stage crowd in the green room. His hand was closed tight around the reporter’s wrist as if he might drift away if not anchored down. 

As they entered the private back room, Jensen watched Jared look around the dimly-lit area, choosing again to sit down on one of those ridiculously low leather couches. Jensen shook his head as the younger man took out his notebook and pen as if to take notes for an interview. 

It was adorable. And completely unacceptable. 

Stalking over to the couch, Jensen rested one knee on the cushion next to the reporter’s leg and pushed his shoulders back against the cushions, snatching the pad and pen out of his hand and tossing them on the ground dramatically. The action drew Jared’s full attention up to Jensen’s face, as if he would speak up and protest. Instead those hazel eyes turned on him, wide and questioning, as Jensen climbed onto Jared’s lap, rubbing his slick leather over the boy’s thighs. Rather than protest, Jared’s pink lips fell open like a flower in spring. 

“Wait.” The reporter breathed out the word and brought a fine-boned hand up to rest on Jensen’s chest. Jensen stopped mounting the boy but the tension in his body was like a tiger being thrown a steak while being kept on a leash. He balanced himself back on Jared’s legs and slowly raised the whisky bottle to his lips again, his eye contact unbroken and intense as if stalking his prey. 

“I do.. want you… badly, so badly…“ Trapped beneath the singer’s tensing thighs, Jared squirmed and looked away. Jensen didn’t move forward but grabbed Jared’s jaw, guiding it back to look at him. He rubbed the side of the boy’s cheek with his thumb, the soft caress a contrast to the muscular cage he formed. Jensen fought the urge to slide his thumb into that perfectly round mouth and push it as far back as he could along the slick velvet of Jared’s tongue, making him drool and gag. 

Instead he brought the whisky up to Jared’s mouth like a sacred offering. When Jared opened his mouth, the singer cupped his jaw and poured a shot full of whisky in, dribbling some out the corner of his mouth, carefully wiping his thumb along that shiny bottom lip. 

Jensen leaned in slowly, his breath hot and low in Jared’s ear. “So, what do you want, baby? Because I would give the world to you. The whole world." 

"Bet you say that to everyone." 

At that, the singer rolled off Jared’s lap, propping himself up in the corner of the couch, his legs splayed, trying to look the part of a bored rock star. He was agitated at how defensive this local, this child for god’s sake, made him feel. People offered Jensen things. That’s how it worked. They would give him everything and he would leave them behind. 

"Don’t have to. If I wanted, there are five people in the room next door who would drop to their knees for me and I wouldn’t have to say a word." 

Jensen tried for disaffected but couldn’t resist the pull of that face, drowning in those big blue-green eyes, and slotted himself back into place next to Jared. "But you’re not like that, are you, baby? You don’t just spread your legs for someone famous." 

Another flush along those slanted cheekbones and Jared dipped his head down in confession. "No, but I think of you that way." 

“You had my poster on your bedroom wall?” Jensen smirked as he nuzzled back into Jared’s ear, stroking his hand across that broad chest. 

“No, but I’ve seen the video of you.“ 

The sex tape his ex released last year. Five million hits on YouTube and counting. That would mean that this beautiful boy with the legs and the throat probably laid in his bed at night fantasizing about Jensen while stroking his cock. He would have arched his back off the mattress while making the sweetest little moans, coming white and hot all over his hand, while watching a video of Jensen jack hammer a guy that he never called again after that night. 

And those moans, those whimpers, that Jared would make? That’s exactly what Jensen needed to hear right the fuck now. 

He grabbed the back of Jared’s neck, guiding him right where he wanted, and pushed his tongue deep inside his mouth. The time for softness was done. He held Jared in place as he sucked hard on his bottom lip and tongue, while pulling him down onto his chest. 

And there it was - a soft exhale with a little uh-uh-uh noise buried deep in Jared’s throat. Jensen could eat that noise for dessert every night. 

He ran his fingers through soft brown curls and gripped tight, bending that long neck just so. Jared looked lost and oh so sweet, his pupils dilated wide like a hole for Jensen to fall into.

"Were you alone when you watched it? Did you touch your cock and wish it was me instead of your fingers deep inside?" 

“Yes, yes, it was just me watching." 

Jensen hummed in satisfaction, knowing no one else had shared that moment, some burly hometown jock or sleazy bartender fucking him into the sheets but who couldn’t see how pure Jared’s heart was. In Jensen’s mind, he fantasized that the two of them were alone in Jared’s bedroom together, rather than the reality of him being filmed in some cheesy LA hotel room by a fame-grubbing twink with a video camera. 

He looked down at Jared’s long neck still exposed and vulnerable, and placed his lips in the soft space where he could see the pulse beat erratically. As soon as he pressed his lips to the spot, his boy began to writhe as if a switch were thrown. God, they were made for each other, one to mark and one to bruise. 

Jensen snaked his other hand down to rest on a sharp hipbone, jutting out from too loose denim. He grabbed on to it, as Jared continued to thrash and moan noisily. Jensen thought he should be more careful because it would be too easy to cut himself on those razor sharp cheeks and hips, creating wounds that went so deep it might shred his heart. 

Baggy jeans were undone and briefs pulled down so that they rested on the perfect swell of Jared’s ass, where Jensen began to stroke the firm skin, cupping the base. He released Jared’s neck and looked with some satisfaction at the darkening spot under his jawline. He nipped at it again and received a small pained noise like a punch. 

“Jensen… You need to stop, I’m gonna come…” Jared whined so beautifully. 

He hiked the boy up his body so that his mouth was in Jared’s ear, filling it with dirty whispers. “How do you want it? Tell me and I’ll give it to you. You want my mouth on you? My fingers buried deep inside? Fucking your cock into my fist? Tell me." 

“Your hand. I want your hand,” Jared panted. His jeans were yanked open, with his cock already dripping at the tip. Jensen smeared his fingerprints in precome, rubbing his claim all along Jared’s dick. Long fingers crawled their way up his bicep, clinging and squeezing, with Jared hanging on as if he might fly away if he let go of Jensen. 

Jensen developed a steady rhythm, and Jared’s hips soon followed along, humping into his fingers while his eyelids fluttered in syncopation. The older man captured Jared’s lips in his own, swallowing down that final long moan as his boy’s cock jerked and wept. 

As Jared collapsed against his chest with his soft hair brushing against Jensen’s jawline, the singer was already making plans. Holding his boy to his chest, sleepy and rumpled, all he could think was how it would feel to have his cock rocked in and out of Jared as the tour bus rolled out of town at first light.


	3. The Tour Bus - Jensen

Red Vines made Jared's mouth taste of sugar and look like ripe raspberries. Jensen was never a big fan of candy but those two things made him want to buy out the company and keep a private stash, just so he could see Jared's face light up when he ate them.  An adorable 23-year-old man child.

When the reporter said he was hungry, it gave Jensen the perfect reason for them to retreat to the tour bus. They laughed over the bassist Rich's candy stash, with Jared plucking the long red tubes out of a glass jar on the countertop and Jensen popping the cork on a chilled bottle of Dom. The champagne in the mini-fridge was a requirement of Jensen's post-concert contract. It helped to wash away the whisky and sweat of a long show or the taste of another one-night stand. Tonight, the singer leaned back against the countertop and watched as Jared upended the dark green bottle and swallowed down the last of the liquid, his eyes alcohol bright and cheeks flushed a deep red to match his candy-coated mouth and tongue.

The reporter looked around the tour bus, enthusiastic but not overly impressed like some people that Jensen had given a tour to, as he ran his fingers over the custom leather seats in the living room. 

"You really sleep in the bus? I thought you'd stay in some nice hotel in town." Jared's lips took another bite of candy in his hand, distracting Jensen from responding about how they had to sleep in the bus to reach the next town on their tour by 2 o'clock tomorrow.

Hydraulics on the bus's front door whooshed open, letting in a woman's laughter and the sound of people mounting the steps. Long wavy blonde hair made an appearance by the divider, followed by glossy straight black hair, followed by Rich and Stephen. 

"So, this is where the party is?" Rich asked, wiggling his eyebrows, as he grabbed the blonde woman from behind while the dark-haired one grabbed him from behind.

Stephen looked confused when he spotted Jared and then broke out into a grin. "Hey man, what are you doing here? Did you get your interview with Jensen? You know, he can be a little difficult." He winked conspiratorially towards Jared.

That wink stirred something dark and slick in Jensen's gut, a need to make bloody and buried the source of it, but the smile on Jared's face calmed his desire to do violence. Maybe he wouldn't kill Stephen, just toss him from the moving bus in the middle of the night while Jared slept. 

Jensen pushed off the counter, slotting in behind his boy and snaking an arm around that small waist. As Stephen continued to talk about nothing, Jensen reached under Jared's shirt, rubbing fingertips against the bare skin under his navel, his callouses from playing guitar rough against baby smooth abs. Two of his fingers dipped below the elastic of Jared's briefs, hidden from sight by the tail of the boy's tshirt, loose where it hung down from his broad shoulders.

What couldn't be hidden was how that little possessive rub on bare skin made the younger man shift back and rub his ass against Jensen. The reaction was so good and the look on the guitarist's face even better when Stephen noticed the dark red mark on Jared's throat, the size and shape of Jensen's mouth. Both band mates locked eyes over the boy's shoulder for a moment before being distracted by one of the women turning on the bus's satellite radio to some 70s funk. Rich whooped it up while trying to pull the cork out of the second bottle of Dom.

"I need to show you something." Jensen breathed the words into Jared's ear and pulled him by the hips away from the small party in the kitchen, past four dark sleeping bunks backlit with soft gold lights, through a curtain into the back.

Behind that curtain was Jensen's private retreat. A double sleeping bunk with a stand that held his acoustic guitar next to it and a small desk for writing. His band mates weren't allowed in Jensen's area and although he brought men or women back here sometimes, it wasn't often. This was his home and he didn't like people getting too comfortable in his space.

The singer settled against the desk edge, rubbing his palms down against leather wrapped thighs. He didn't even need to touch Jared to make himself half hard, just envision his cock sliding between those spit-shiny pink lips, hands tangled in soft brown hair, coming deep and repeatedly into that willing mouth.

Jared glanced down at the acoustic guitar resting on the stand next to the bed, its warm wood glowing in the dim underlights. He ran his fingers reverently over the fretboard, his blue-green eyes looking over at the singer.

"Why don't you play it during the show?" Jensen was reminded that Jared wasn't just anyone. He was a reporter who was interested in Jensen's response, not just playing to his ego.

"I..." Jensen's brow wrinkled in thought. Whisky and champagne had loosened his notoriously tight control over what he said. But no, that wasn't completely true. He drank every night, sometimes more than this. It was Jared that made him looser, made him want to share. "I only use it to write songs. I do that in private. It's not for everyone."

Jared was on him in a second, his lips unexpectedly rough, open and sloppy, as the younger man grabbed hold of the back of Jensen's neck. The singer let him set the pace this time, wanting to see where the boy would lead them. One of those big hands that Jensen was learning to love now stroked down his back to grip at the smooth leather around his ass. Jensen only had time for a small groan before that same hand reached around the front to cup his cock and balls. 

Fuck, Jared's enormous hand was wrapped around all of Jensen through the thick material of his pants. 

Just as quickly as the kiss started, Jared's mouth was gone, leaving lips cool and wet with their absence, before Jensen realized that his boy had dropped to his knees, like a fucking wet dream, unbuckling his belt, mouthing at the length of Jensen's cock through the black cotton brief. The older man grabbed the shoulders before him, kneading them, directing the pressure of that mouth right where it needed to go.

"God, what you do to me." One of Jensen's hands skated through the curls, soft like his voice. "Sweetheart, I don't think I can let you go."

Jared looked up, his long eyelashes moving slowly, before his fingers drug down the material of the briefs, uncovering the singer's cock. Jared looked back down, seemed to study the curve of his dick before reaching out his tongue to paint a stripe up the front before licking the tip and sucking it down.

As Jensen watched it disappear into that perfect mouth, he brought his thumb to rub against Jared's dimple as the boy pulled back off and suckled the tip, caressing where the dimple deepened as the pressure increased. Well, there was an answer to at least one of Jensen's questions tonight.

Ask any groupie that serviced Jensen after a concert and they would tell you the singer had the stamina of a tantric sex guru. Yet this, feeling his cock rub against the wet softness of Jared's tongue and seeing those eyes look up at him, not with pornographic overacting but with wet openness, had his balls tighten up. He was ready to mark the insides of this boy with his cock, just like he marked the outside with his mouth.

As he watched his dick slide in and out, Jensen's thumb moved from Jared's cheek to graze the bruising on the side of his neck. The singer pressed in, just enough to get a sweet pleasure-pain noise in the back of Jared's throat where his cock had taken up residence. That vibration set him off and he shouted and pushed deeper, coming thick and hard into the dark pink of Jared's mouth.

This was it, the moment Jensen fantasized about all night, a blow job he would not forgot with a man who was perfect for him, and yet it wasn't enough.

Jared wiped the little bit of release that hit his lips as Jensen pulled out. The reporter stood up and crossed his arms, rubbing his biceps as he pulled away from the singer and out of his reach.

No, no, no. This was not how this should go this time. Jensen was always the one who found a way to escape from the people he used every night, but Jared backing away from him and not meeting his eyes after what just happened? It was like his own skin being ripped away from his body.

"I should leave now."


	4. The Bunk - Jensen

By the time Jensen pushed through the curtain, Jared was halfway across the tour bus. 

"Jared, stop for fuck's sake!"

The reporter came to a halt right in front of the drained bottles of Dom sitting on the counter and the empty Red Vines jar. Stephen pushed the leggy brunette off his lap into one of the leather chairs, and reached out for Jared's arm while Rich froze in his seat in the corner of the room.

"Are you all right, man?" The guitarist spoke to Jared but glared back at Jensen, whose open belt buckle hung down like forgotten jewelry on a nightstand. 

The younger man turned around halfway with a tight smile. "No, I'm fine. Just need to head out." He patted Stephen's hand on his forearm. "It's all good."

"Jared. Look at me." 

All the whisky and endorphins were burned out of Jensen’s system in that moment. Everyone else in the room was watching him except the one person who needed to look. He desperately needed Jared to turn around, so they could pull each other back into orbit. 

"If you're fine, then turn around and look at me.”

Every single detail stood out in that moment. How Jared’s worn jeans clung to his narrow hips. How his grey t-shirt hugged his shoulder blades so tight they looked like tucked up angel wings. How his hair, slightly damp with sweat, curled up at the ends. Every single detail stood out, except why his boy was leaving.

Jared turned around slowly. The eyes that met Jensen’s weren’t angry or upset. They looked guilty.

The tour bus door opened at that moment with its distinctive noise and their drummer Matt bounded up the stairs, stopping in his tracks, his big blue eyes wide as he took in the silence of the scene in front of him and Jensen's pants hanging open. "Hey guys, what's going on?"

Rich snorted and patted the chair next to him. "You are missing all the drama, Mattie. Grab a seat for the show."

At that, Jared turned to walk back to Jensen but Stephen pulled his arm back. "If you want to leave..."

Jared shook his head no, but Jensen's anger was burning white hot, enough to melt the granite and metal under his fingertips. He shoved Stephen with a rough hand to the chest. "Fuck off, Amell. Don't touch him again." 

Matt slid into the seat next to Rich, grabbing the open whisky bottle on the table. "How did I almost miss this? Too good."

Jared grabbed the singer by his shoulders and pushed him behind the privacy curtain again. "Don't do that again."

"Had to stop you." 

"Why? What does it matter to you? Just another night on tour, right?"

Jensen pulled Jared over to the bunk and sat him on the edge. He cupped the younger man's face between his two hands. "You're wrong."

"Jensen, there are some things I haven't told you." Another confession, but unlike the one about the sex tape, the singer wasn't sure he want to hear this one.

"Only two things I need to know," Jensen responded. "Is there someone waiting for you at home?"

Jared quirked his lips and gave a little negative nod. Jensen responded with a deep wet kiss of gratitude.

"Then did I hurt you?" Jensen held his breath, thinking maybe he read the signs wrong, assumed too much.

"No! That's not it at all. It's just that..."

"Don't care." Jensen cut him off. He reached down and grabbed the hem of his concert t-shirt and pulled it over his head, throwing it carelessly on the ground. Stepping out of his leather pants and underwear, the singer stood before Jared, naked and absently stroking his cock like someone might scratch an itch.

The younger man licked his lips. "You're doing it again. Taking away my ability to think straight."

"You're not supposed to think." Jensen was balanced on a ledge with his patience, balling up his fists to stem back his need to clutch, to dig his fingertips in, to push, to stroke. Instead, he waited. It was a few seconds but it felt like a lifetime.

Jared pressed his lips together and then stood up and mirrored Jensen, stripping his shirt off and shimmying out of his jeans. He climbed back onto the bed, laying back against the pillows, with one arm behind his head. 

It was a porn star pose, with one knee falling open, showing the pale skin of Jared's inner thigh, inviting Jensen's teeth and lips to bite and mark. The illusion was broken when Jared twisted one of his brown curls nervously, biting his bottom lip and looking more like a high school tease then a smut star.

The singer stared down with heavy lidded eyes at how exposed Jared was, how perfect he was, waiting just for Jensen. As he crawled on the bed, he kissed each patch of smooth skin and pale joints along his path. Reverent little kisses at the ankle, the knee, the hip. He could feel Jared's heartbeat with his lips and tongue at every pulse point. Jared began to whine softly but Jensen continued to take his time. Wrist. Elbow. Shoulder. Jawline.

Jensen could feel the ridge of Jared's cock, smooth and hard against his thigh as he reached for the lube and a condom from a shelf above the head of the bunk. When he pulled back down, Jensen kissed the spot on Jared's abs privately where he had rubbed it publicly before. He poured a puddle of the slick there and then smeared his two fingers through it, causing a sticky mess that was joined by precome from Jared's cock. 

Any remaining sugar was kissed off those wet and sloppy lips, as Jensen distracted Jared away from his fingers which began to move slowly in and out. Jared wasn't virgin tight. His boy had experience, that much was clear. 

Jensen didn't need to teach him anything. He just needed to own him after this night so that Jared never left, never opened himself up again to thoughts of some other man.

Blue-green eyes dilated to almost black in that soft light as Jensen flipped him on his side, straddling one long, lean leg and twisting the other across his body, which made that first penetration so deep. Once he was fully seated, he gripped the boy's hip in one hand, twisting his pelvis with a satisfying grunt. The movement caused a soft string of pleases - please don't stop, please more, please don't leave. 

Without unseating himself, Jensen pulled himself around to spoon behind Jared, chest pressed against his back. When the younger man went to touch his own cock, Jensen grabbed his hand. 

"I need to show you something." He repeated as he guided Jared's hand to the wall above the bunk. Bits of note paper, pieces of napkins, hotel stationery were scattered above them, tacked on the wall with pushpins and tape. Hundreds of them, some with careful handwriting and others barely legible scrawl. 

"This is the part of me that I wanted to share with you."

Jensen released Jared's hand but it remained hovering in place, touching the words that were written there with his fingertips. Words of love and betrayal. Poems of hurt and joy. Songs of loss and frustration. Jared's eyes roamed between the notes, taking it all in.

The singer reached down, beginning to stroke Jared's cock which was too long neglected. His hand moved in rhythm to the push of his cock, its head moving slickly in and out.

"All these songs, these words, mean nothing now. After tonight, I will write us new songs." He whispered, feeling Jared clench up at the words, coming hard after only a few strokes. Jensen continued to ride his orgasm out, pumping in and out of the fucked out boy. As he came, he looked into Jared's face, whose eyes were already closing. 

It had been a long night, this first night. He closed his own eyes, his cock softening but still deep inside of Jared.

\---

Jensen had his morning ritual. He would get up before the others, making coffee the right way because God knows his band mates were useless with that. While sipping his coffee, he would pluck out a few melodies, playing with ideas for new songs while the miles flew by outside the tour bus on their way to the next gig.

His quiet was interrupted as Jared stumbled out from the back, his hair standing up on one side, his jeans thrown on but no shirt. Jensen noted with with satisfaction the mark on his neck and several other bruises on his arms and chest, but he couldn't miss the panic that was crossing Jared's face as he looked out the window.

"Jensen, where the fuck are we?"


	5. The Green Room - Jared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a show, reporter Jared gets what he needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going back to the beginning for a little Jared POV.

The hallway leading to the green room was painted an unironic green, which never failed to made Jared laugh a little when he came backstage. He covered all kinds of events in this venue for the local paper over the past two years including aging hair bands, comedians, famous authors and even a pair of drunken Vegas magicians, one of whom fell off the stage in the middle of a performance. 

But tonight was going to be different. Tonight, he was getting a face-to-face interview with Jensen Ackles, and that interview was going to be the last link in a long chain of Jared moving on with his life.

The reporter knocked once on the door and waited, fingering the plastic press pass that hung down from a lanyard around his neck. A balding fireplug of a security guy with a white handlebar mustache squinted through the crack in the door at Jared's ID. 

"Pada-what?" 

Jared rolled his eyes and held the pass even closer to the man's myopic view. Security guards loved giving everybody a hard time, like they were the Secret Service protecting the president rather than part-time muscle guarding a group of grown men against teenaged girls, so Jared gave him a knowing nod as he walked through the door. 

The heat and the noise level surged as soon as he crossed the threshold. At the right side of the crowded green room were Matt and Rich, holding whisky glasses and court with all of their adoring subjects near the makeshift bar. The new guy, Stephen, sat on one of the leather couches smiling and chatting with three women of indiscernible age. And at the far end of the green room was Jensen. 

While Jared had seen pictures and video of the man, it didn't prepare him. Everyone else was laughing and talking, but the singer was deep in discussion with another person, his brow furrowed slightly as if the conversation required all of his attention. Jared couldn't help but stare at the curve of Jensen's muscular arms where they emerged from the tight sleeve of his black concert t-shirt. His gaze trailed down to a pair of strong wrists that were ringed by a stack of leather bracelets and the large hands beneath. Images of being held down by those hands filled his brain in a split second.

Jensen looked up right then, shaking Jared out of his dream of rough restraint and desperate sounds. Those green eyes, unblinking and intense, were magnetic and the reporter found that he couldn't look away, like he was a compass needle and Jensen's face was true north. His heart squeezed tight at the thought and his mouth fell open as if to say something but no words came out. Jensen's eyes dropped down slowly to the reporter's open lips. 

Great. During the last nine months, Jared thought of nothing else but how to get close to this guy and right now, he looked like a goldfish gasping for air. 

Jensen nudged the short man next to him, who started across the room towards Jared. Panic seized the reporter for a brief moment and in his paranoia, all he could think of was that Jensen knew. The singer knew, the band knew, everyone in this room knew what he was working on. They were going to kick him out because of the 250-page manuscript sitting on his desk at home which was waiting for the final chapter to be written after tonight's show. 

Rather than throwing a punch or throwing him out the door, the short guy with the dark curly hair and beard smiled and extended his hand in greeting. "Hey, you must be the local reporter. Jared, right? I'm Rob, the band's manager. So, where do you want to start?" 

Jared glanced up again at Jensen who was still eye fucking him from across the room, and he knew that despite all the research he had done, he wasn't ready to meet the singer just yet. He needed an easy place to start. 

"How about your new guitarist?" 

Sitting across from Stephen ten minutes later, Jared knew he made a smart choice. The guitarist was uncomplicated and responsive to all of his questions, reminding Jared a lot of his last boyfriend. This was a guy who would open doors for you, a guy who would ask you how your day went at the end of a long week and a guy who would make sure his partner climaxed first every time they had sex. This was a guy who was perfect on paper, but based on his last apathetic relationship, Jared was ready to ball up that perfect piece of paper and throw it in the fireplace to burn. 

And here came the match to strike that fire. 

Jensen blocked Jared's view of Stephen, stepping over his legs and smiling like a large sleek cat. The singer said something about an exclusive, but Jared couldn't hear any of the specific words being said, lost in the face of that much beauty right in front of him. Sitting on a low couch with Jensen towering over him, Jared's view was filled with a sea of slick black leather stretched over muscular thighs and the well-defined bulge of Jensen's cock. A warm flush spread over his cheeks as he realized that he was sitting at the perfect angle for him to blow Jensen in front of all these people. 

This was probably Jensen's intent, to give Jared a cock show and embarrass him in front of everyone. Jared scrambled to stand up so that they would be at an equal level, smiling to hide his embarassment. 

If he thought the singer would leer or laugh at him, he was wrong. Instead, Jensen became stone faced with the change producing a slight tic along his jawline. That tiny movement called attention to his perfectly maintained two-day scruff, and Jared lost himself again, wondering whether the man's beard grew in blond or red or brown, and thinking how raw the inside of his thighs would be rubbing up against that stubble. 

Jensen wasn't the kind of guy to ask how his day went or open the door for him. He was the kind who would push Jared's knees wide apart and make him forget there was a world outside by sucking his brains out through his dick. Exactly the kind of guy that Jared was looking for right now.

The singer stood silently in front of him, waiting for an answer. Oh, yeah, the interview. The reason he was really here. 

"Sure, where do you want to go for this?"


	6. The Back Room - Jared

It was all Chad's fault in the end. When his best friend showed him the video for the first time, Jared felt sick to his stomach. It wasn't a surprise that Chad was cruising porn online on his laptop again, but his connection to the subject matter made Jared's stomach sink like the Titanic.

"I know that guy!" Chad pointed one finger at the screen, while precariously holding onto his Big Gulp cup of Diet Dew.

"Everyone knows Jensen Ackles, you dumb ass." Jared rolled his eyes and tried to move away from the images that filled the small screen.

"No, not him. The guy taking Jensen Ackles' cock up his ass. I know _that_ guy."

Chad knew the twink onscreen but what he didn't know was how much Jensen's music meant to Jared. It was one of the few things that kept him together in the quiet months following his mother's death. 

During that time, Jared had disconnected from friends and become remote. It was so unlike the person Chad knew, who could talk your ear off about music and movies and video games, arguing over the genius of Guillermo del Toro or the best mods for Fallout New Vegas. The lack of Jared chatter worried Chad enough to take a break from his nonexistent acting career in LA to make a special trip to hang out, suggesting a week-long bacchanal of drinking salted caramel vodka shots and banging triplets. 

The fact that it ended up just being the two of them drinking cheap beer while playing Call Of Duty was exactly what Jared needed.

Before Chad showed up, Jared spent countless hours on his back, laying on the mattress in his dark bedroom with legs dangling over the edge and bare feet brushing back and forth on the bare wood floor. The bedroom door was shut not for privacy but as a quarantine against the cold empty of the rest of the house. Big padded headphones cradled Jared's head, creating a womb-like feel, as Jensen's voice filled his ears with songs of desire and loss.

The hole of his own loss refused to heal itself, so his desire kicked into overdrive to pick up the slack. After work each night, Jared would find a bar rather than return to the house. Sharing drinks with colleagues would dissolve into sleeping with anyone who showed the slightest interest at closing time. The hard press of lips in a dark alleyway, the grind of hips in the back seat of some Ford in a deserted parking lot and the slap of flesh together in a strange apartment began to fill his life. But none of it ever seemed to touch him.

Jared even spent a drunken night with his editor exchanging sloppy but disappointing blow jobs in a battered bathroom stall of a dive bar near their offices. As the reporter stumbled home in the early morning hours, he wondering how he would face Monday's editorial meeting after deep throating his boss's cock all night. Turned out that his life at the paper went on as normal, although the older man kept stopping by his desk at the end of the day, offering to join him at concerts or buy him dinner.

That was part of the problem. It wasn't like they weren't nice guys. After that first night of sex, most of them would call the next day and pursue second dates. Jared tried to engage with a few of them but nothing stuck. He was unmoored and drifting through life, and none of these men with their weak-tea offers of a relationship were strong enough to be his anchor. 

And that was the thing. Before all this, Jared wasn't a slut. He was a shy and slightly awkward writer who didn't date much, who flustered under any attention and was just looking for someone special. He was practical enough not to believe in soul mates but romantic enough to want a partner to share the rest of his life with. All these men that he slept with thought they knew him and that because they had fucked once or twice, they deserved a place in Jared's life. Between the nice guys he wanted to forget and the emptiness he felt at home, things were spiraling down.

When Chad came to stay with him, all that changed. His friend filled the house with noise and porn and didn't allow his friend to retreat into silence. Cheap beer, adolescent video games and watching bad action movies helped to revive the old Jared.

That was until he saw the video of Jensen with that twink. Images of Jensen twisting his hips and sliding his hands up and down this guy's back were superimposed on the screen of Jared's mind. He felt restless, as the pure feelings that pored into his ears all those nights transformed into filthy and dirty pictures that he couldn't go back and unsee it. He didn't want to go back and unsee. His sexual energy which had been so widely scattered all over town was now focused on this single obsession and there was no escape.

Making dinner, he thought about the singer's endless dirty talk of fuck yeah, so tight and I'm gonna fill you up. Driving to work, he visualized how Jensen rubbed circles with his thumbs into the guy's ass so hard it must have left bruises and then how he used those same thumbs to pull the cheeks apart, tilting his head just so, appreciating the angle of his penetration and the glide of his cock in and out of the body in front of him. Sitting at his laptop writing a story, Jared remembered how the singer ignored the pleas to move faster and how his mouth fell open as he finally came with a shout.

After Chad returned to LA, Jared still spent time laying on his bed with headphones on and feet dangling down. But now, he would pushed his jeans down so that they tangled carelessly around his ankles while he stroked his cock. He listened to those same songs but the words took on a different meaning as he thought of that video, wishing he could be fucked and filled by the singer. Jared's hand would slide from root to tip in a long fluid motion, gathering the beads of precome in his palm and spreading them back wet and shiny along his shaft. When he would feel his balls start to tighten, he would pause and cup a hand around them, squeezing the orgasm back, edging himself for hours. 

Jared's one night stands dried up after that because they couldn't measure up against his fantasies.

The reporter was forced to channel this preoccupation because otherwise he would be caught in an endless loop of introspection and jerking off. So Jared did what he was good at, researching and writing, and a biography on the subject of his fixation emerged. His first interview was the twink asshole from the video that Chad knew.

Right now, in this dim back room after the concert, the reporter was presented with a lap full of Jensen. Faced with the singer in real life, Jared couldn't breathe and he couldn't think. He took a swig of the whisky when it was offered, hoping it would calm his nerves or give him courage, but it did neither. When the older man ran his thumb along Jared's lips, he felt like an open, raw nerve. When Jensen's tongue and teeth touched his neck, it burned away all memories of those other men. They were pale and washed out Polaroids from long ago and Jensen was the high def reality. Jared twisted under the pressure from that mouth, simultaneously wanting to move closer and crawl deep inside Jensen, and to move away from the needle-like pleasure pain because it couldn't be real.

All that practice of holding himself back, of making things last, was thrown away the minute the singer's hand touched his cock. Jared locked his hand around Jensen's bicep as he felt his abs tense up, contracting uncontrollably in advance of orgasm. When he came with the older man's fingers wrapped tight, it crushed him in the best possible way.

Collapsing on Jensen's chest in that moment, all Jared could do was close his eyes and hold onto the moment. It was perfect and it wasn't going to last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think so far!


	7. The Tour Bus - Jared

"What do you need?" Jensen whispered into the damp hair at Jared's temple. As he laid with his ear pressed to the singer's chest after what was the best orgasm of his life, Jared could feel his own heart thundering while Jensen's heart beat was slow and strong like a marathon runner.

"Well, I'm kinda hungry." 

Shit, that was the first thing out of Jared's mouth? He was a writer. Couldn't he have come up with something more epic to match the feelings coursing through him after amazing sex with a man he fantasized about for months? While he was cringing, Jensen treated Jared's simple statement like a commandment that he was compelled to follow. They cut through the people in the outer room like a hot knife through butter and Jared never felt so powerful or so helpless as when he was trailing behind the singer's wake. The quest to find his bandmate's stash of Red Vines in the tour bus became as important as finding the Holy Grail.

They emerged through the loading dock into the dark parking lot and a sky filled with stars. Most of the audience had left an hour before and the surrounding noises were muted and it felt like they were the only two people in the world. Jared had just taken a deep breath to enjoy the moment, when Jensen grabbed him by the wrist and they took off again. 

"Hold up." Jared panted and fell back against the cool metal side of the bus, light headed from the bottle of whisky they passed back and forth as weaved their way through the parking lot. Jensen turned to look at Jared and for a moment, his intense look softening with a laugh, unexpected and affectionate, and Jared's stomach flipped at the sound. 

The singer looked unreal standing in the moonlight, like a silvered negative of the images in Jared's mind. All his interviews for the book had said that Jensen was cold and focused on success. People talked about his physical attributes at length - those full lips, and green eyes, and strong arms - but never once had any of them mentioned his laugh. Jared clung to the idea that this happy, warm response was just for him, something no one else had shared.

Jensen pressed Jared against the cold ridged metal, and he could feel the bumps rough against the knobs of his spine. His wrist was still encircled by Jensen's fingers and the singer lifted it to his lips, kissing the soft skin on the inside and then brushing his lips against the palm. All those nerves from Jared's right hand ran straight down to his dick. When Jensen took one of his fingers into his wet, slick mouth and started to suck on it, an embarrassing whimper escaped Jared's mouth and he curled into the singer's neck to hide his face.

"Those noises you make, fuck. All I want is to turn you around and fuck you hard right now, burying my cock so deep inside that you can't move."

Jared raised his eyes to meet Jensen's when he spotted a security guard walking around the front of the bus. His dick twitched at the thought of Jensen being buried balls deep where anyone could see them, of being pinned down out in the open, but he didn't want to share him with anyone right now.

"Jensen, please. Let's go inside."

Maybe it was the bottle of Dom they drank when they got on board the tour bus or maybe it was Jensen's hands on his bare skin as they talked to the band, rough and possessive as they roamed over his skin, but the rest of the night was a blur. Right up until he saw Jensen's acoustic guitar sitting on its stand in his bunk area.

The words and songs that started this whole journey came flooding back. Jared could feel himself back on his bed at home with his hand around his cock listening to this man's rough voice as it shared thoughts and words that resonated deep in Jared's soul. That was all it took for Jared to throw himself on his knees on that hard bus floor in front of Jensen, desperately unhooking his belt and pulling down his leather pants.

The weight of Jensen's cock filled his mouth and filled his mind. It was better than any porn he watched, better than that stupid sex tape that Chad showed him, because Jensen's hands were on him, alternating between petting and pulling his hair and pushing down on his shoulders. When he pressed his thumb against the fresh bruise on Jared's throat, the one he had sucked down so sweetly in the back of the green room, the sharp spike of pain caused his eyes to water. It was too much but not nearly enough. 

As the singer came with a grunt down his throat, the salty taste made Jared flash on distant memories of other times in the past year when he found himself on his knees. The men that he slept with and left behind. He couldn't wait to get away from them at the end of the night after they served their purpose, making him forget his pain.

Jared never felt guilt about any of that until this moment. Maybe Jensen would feel the same way about him, looking to get rid of him quickly. This close connection that they had shared tonight might last only as long as it took Jensen to finish up, pull out of Jared's mouth and tuck it back in his pants. It would serve Jared right for all those unreturned calls and messages. Karma pure and simple.

Jared closed his eyes as he swallowed, the taste now bitter on his tongue. He knew better than anyone that Jensen wasn't around for the long run. All those interviews for the book told him that. The people that Jensen slept with never seemed bitter about it, just realistic. He wasn't someone who kept people around.

As he looked up into those unfocused green eyes, with Jensen still coming back from coming, Jared also remembered the publisher who was waiting for his final manuscript. How would Jensen feel if he knew what Jared had written extensively about his life? Based on the previous relationships he documented in the book, the singer never got over a betrayal. And that's what the book felt like, now that he was here, now that they had shared this night, it was a betrayal of trust. 

Jared stood up and backed away from Jensen, and he knew that he needed to get off this tour bus before he did something stupid like open his mouth to tell Jensen everything.


	8. The Bunk - Jared

Jensen's presence from the night before was like a warm blanket wrapped around him as Jared hovered in the grey space between being asleep and awake. His mind could still provide all the sense memory from the night before - being on his knees with his hands wrapped around Jensen's thighs, the thick cock on his tongue, his lips sliding along its length, filling his mouth so completely that tears filled his eyes while the singer took hold of his jaw. 

In his mind’s eye, he could still see Jensen's face from his place on the floor afterwards, content and happy in that single moment. Even in his dreams, Jared shied away from how he tried to slip out the door, and all the baggage that went along with that, instead choosing to remember the scratch of the sheets and pillowcase against his skin as he crawled over them. Jared envisioned them not on a small bus bunk but laying across an indulgent king-sized bed, soft bedding and pillows that they could sink down into together, refusing to leave each other for any reason.

Jared knew even in his half-sleep that he was not in that grand bed but lying on the bunk alone, with his hands curled beneath the pillow and legs tangled in the blanket. Still, he swore that he could feel his palms pressing against the wall in front of him like they were last night, with Jensen's songs floating on the wall in front of him and his filthy dirty talk in his ear, while the singer pushed into him from behind, filling him up until they were locked together, rocking back and forth. 

His cock began to fill from those thoughts, and the memory of how Jensen's hand stroked him last night, but Jared’s hands were too heavily weighted with sleep right now to do anything about the ache between his legs.

_After tonight, I will write us new songs._

His mouth was dry with too much whiskey and at the thought of Jensen writing a song about him. But would it be about attraction or betrayal? His forehead wrinkled up in distress at the thought, sending him to burrow further under the pillow and blanket, where the dream of Jensen spooning up behind him was still fresh and reality still far away.

The rocking motion that lulled him to sleep earlier was disrupted by a rough noise. Rumble strip, Jared thought sleepily, god, I hate those things. The noise flagged his brain that something was wrong, dragging him up into consciousness. Rumble strip? The bus shimmied again and he blinked his eyes open.

The first thing he saw was the last thing he looked at last night - Jensen’s songwriting wall. The beauty of the small, precise handwriting was a surprise, since he thought of rock stars as scattered creatures, running on the adrenaline high of performance and chemical assistance. Sure, some of it was sloppy and disorganized, especially the wrinkled cocktail napkins from bars all over the lower 48 states and slips of paper torn from hotel notepads, but many were that clear and thoughtful script on neatly lined note paper. 

For the third time, a rumble strip shook the bus, and Jared’s gut clenched. The rocking motion he felt earlier had nothing to do with his hazy memories of sex from the night before and everything to do with the tour bus driving quickly down a highway.

He shoved aside the blanket and clamored off the bunk. Jared searched frantically for his jeans, unable in his unease to remember where he dropped them the night before. He spotted the pile of denim next to an empty guitar stand, and pulled them on. Without waiting to find his t-shirt, he pushing aside the curtain divider.

Jensen was seated on the banquette, one bare foot tucked up under his leg and the other dangling below, one pink toe touching the floor while his guitar rested on his lap. He looked young in the eastern light, dressed only in a white t-shirt and old jeans, with a cup of coffee and a notepad on the table in front of him. The beauty of it made Jared wish for the camera he always kept in the trunk of his car.

Looking out the window beyond Jensen, Jared saw the blacktop of the highway and endless rows of gold and green corn rolling by the tour bus windows. The unease he felt earlier blew up into a full-blown panic attack. Jared woke up in the middle of fucking Nebraska or Iowa, which meant his laptop, his manuscript and his job lay hours behind them.

_"Jensen, where the fuck are we?"_

Jensen looked up from his guitar, and seeing the panic on Jared's face, set it carefully to the side. “Hey, it’s okay, calm down…”

Jared was livid because nothing about this was okay. “Don’t tell me to calm down. Just tell me, where are we?”

Jensen looked calmly out the window. “I think we’re coming up to Omaha. There's a great diner up ahead where we usually stop for breakfast.”

Jared’s mouth opened to say something about kidnapping and personal rights, but he found that all the snarky comments that were waiting to roll off his tongue disappeared when he looked at Jensen. Too many feelings bubbled to the surface when he thought about the singer wanting to keep him here or take him to the next show or whatever it was that he had in mind. And the thing was, Jared would just give in. He would look in Jensen’s green eyes and give in to anything the singer asked.

Instead of giving in, he tapped into his anger and pushed past Jensen, heading towards the front of the bus and grabbing the back of the driver’s seat.

“Pull the bus over now.” When the driver glanced back uncertainly, Jared snapped. “PULL THE BUS OVER NOW. I’m getting off.”

One glance up at Jared’s face and another at his muscled chest and biceps helped the driver make up his mind, and he pulled the bus quickly over at a wide spot on the side of the road.

“C’mon, we are not letting you off in the middle of nowhere.” 

Jensen came up behind him now, but Jared wasn’t turning around and getting sucked back into that whole vortex again. Last night was great - no, it was the most amazing night of his life - but it wasn’t real. He had a book deal waiting for him and a job that he was good at, and an editor who was going to be pissed. Last night was just another escalation of these past months when Jared was out of control and giving into whatever felt good at the time. The need to take back control, even if it was in the middle of a Nebraska corn field, felt crucial to him.

He stepped down to the driver’s level and extended hIs open palm. “Your phone. I need to borrow your phone.”

The man looked back over his shoulder at Jensen and then reluctantly handed over his iPhone and opened the bus door. Jared walked down the bus steps and into the bright sun, where the gravel along the roadside bit into the bare soles of his feet and a light breeze reminded him that he had no shirt on. It probably looked ridiculous, him walking along the shoulder of the highway, bare shoulders and torso and feet, but he just didn't care.

“Stop, Jared. You need to talk to me. We are not leaving you here, so let's get back on the bus and figure this out.” Jensen followed him down the steps, padding out on his own bare feet, looking carefully up and down the edge where prairie grass met up with asphalt. “Be careful where you’re walking, okay? There’s probably broken glass along here.”

Jared let out an exasperated noise and ran a hand through his messy morning hair, pulling it back off his face before looking over at Jensen. 

“Are you kidding me? What were you thinking, not waking me up when the bus took off? I have a job back in Sioux Falls, Jensen, and that may not mean much to a big rock star like you but it's important to me. Or maybe kidnapping is something you do with all the groupies you sleep with?” 

“You’re not a groupie. And I thought…” Jensen fell silent for a moment, looking uncertain for the first time since Jared met him. “We were great together. We should be together.” 

Jared shook his head again as the other members of the band stepped off the bus one by one. Jensen walked back over when the bus driver made an appearance and whispered something to him.

“Soooo, what's the drama this morning, boys?” Rich had a ridiculously big pair of round sunglasses on, and Matt had hopped up on his back. “God, is this going to get physical? Because if there’s not going to be a fight that ends in public sex, then Mattie and I are going back to bed.”

As Jensen finished talking to the bus driver, who turned around and went back inside the bus, Stephen tried to skirt around him to reach Jared. “Are you alright?”

“Don’t start with me, Amell.” Jensen stepped towards him. “This is not your business.”

Stephen raised his hands in mock surrender, and moved back just far enough to be out of Jensen's reach but didn't leave, instead gesturing to Jared who paced in the grass with the phone to his ear. “You do know this is fucked up, right, Jensen?”

There was no answer on Jeff's line so Jared opened up a text message and began to type before looking at the band members assembled at the side of the bus. 

“Can somebody tell me where we end up today?” 

The question was met by blank stares, either due to a lack of coffee or because the band didn't keep track of those things, so Jared looked up at the bus driver who had reappeared in the open doorway and gave him the “help me out” puppy eyes.

“Kansas City. We're playing at the Crossroads tonight,” the burly man replied as he leaned down to hand something grey to Jensen

As the singer took the handoff, Jared realized it was his t-shirt from last night and that Jensen sent the driver to retrieve it from the back of the bus. His anger from before was muted now by a thick layer of humiliation, thinking of how he was not only naked but covered in bruises and bites from last night, and he nodded as Jensen handed it to him without a word.

Jensen step back with his arms crossed, lips pressed tight. Jared had a flash of wanting to say something, explain why he was angry and why he couldn't stay, but all those possible conversations would lead to inevitable messiness. Either Jared would admit that he was getting attached to the singer (he could feel the way Jensen was growing like a vine around his heart), or Jensen would flip out when he found out about the book. No matter which way it went, things would end in disappointment, anger and apologies. 

Jared turned towards the open field as he finished the text.

_jeff its jared_

_still with band, long story_  
going to kc but  
flying back tonight if I can 

_sorry_

Jared pressed send, turning back around to face the group. “Okay, you're right. I can't stay here at the side of the road, so I guess I need a ride all the way to Kansas City.”

The band filed back inside and Jared made to follow them. As he went to climb the steps, Jensen grabbed his arm.

“I’m sorry, and I think I might have gotten a little carried away.” The apology was real but the cocky smile was back in place. “I know you're mad. But I'm glad you're here.”

Jared couldn't help but smile back a little bit. “Yeah, well, I'm stuck with you for a few more hours. Now, where that diner you were talking about? You owe me pancakes.”


	9. Road to Kansas City - Jensen

The food at the diner was great, if Jared's smile was any indication. So, now Jensen knew that the best way to his boy’s heart was through his stomach.

Jared was wedged in between Rich and Stephen on the other side of the red diner booth, laughing at their jokes and eating strawberry waffles with whipped cream. When the waitress came by to refill their coffee, he said thank you ma'am and flashed his dimples.

As he took another bite of the waffle, a dollop of cream ended up on Jared's upper lip and his pink tongue snuck out to lick it away like a kitten. 

It made Jensen want to put his fist through a wall.

He couldn't tell if adorable was the reporter’s natural state or if Jared was going out of his way to torture Jensen for what happened this morning. Sure, Jensen had made a mistake but he had apologized, which didn't happen often. He hadn't thought about what might be happening in Jared's life in his rush to make him part of his own.

Jensen stared across the table at Rich’s arm flung casually around Jared's shoulders while the bassist grabbed his forearm with the other hand as the two talked. It was like watching a vine wrap itself around a tree. A small, annoying vine.

Jensen loved Rich, really he did. Hell, he loved all his bandmates. They were amazing musicians. They respected his songwriting and followed his lead. When he felt like hiding away from the public, they would entertain fans for hours on end with stories and antics and flirting. And when Jensen wanted to fuck a fan in the wings of the stage or in the green room, they would walk the other way, dragging the party out with them. It was the perfect arrangement until right this moment. 

Rich flirted with everyone - it didn't seem to matter whether it was reciprocated - and Jensen usually found it amusing. Today, it was eating away at him like acid. That emotion must have been flashing like a neon sign, because even Stephen picked up on it, keeping his hands and his thoughts to himself.

“Time to go.” Jensen stood up abruptly and threw cash down on the table and stalked away to the front door, missing Rich’s amused little smile, before he turned around.

“Our fearless leader has spoken. Besides, we need to return the princess to her castle.” Rich waggled his eyebrows at Jared.

He blushed, running a hand around the back of his neck. “I'm not a princess.”

“You could have fooled me with all that hair, Beauty.” He pushed the reporter out of the booth. “Besides, we need to get going before the Beast bites my head off.”

Jared opened his mouth as if to say something more, but Rich kept pushing him out the door.

As they got back on the bus, Jared nervously asked the other band members if he could ask them a few more questions for what Jensen assumed was his review of last night’s concert back in Sioux Falls.

Wearing his darkest wraparound shades and slouching down in one of the leather seats on the opposite side of the bus, Jensen tried to remain surly. He turned on the TV, watching out of the corner of his eye as Jared sat with his notepad and pen out, interviewing the other band members. It brought back memories of last night in the green room but this time, he felt more than just lust. The boy knew his stuff as he and Mattie, who normally let Rich take the lead in interviews, talked excitedly about rock music history and influential musicians. 

After about an hour and a half, Jensen stood up and walked over to Jared. “Don't you want to interview me?”

The echo of what happened last night in the green room didn't escape Jared either, as he looked up at him with the same long eyelashes and blinding dimples. Jensen felt a similar dip in his stomach at the sight but felt something even more profound in his heart. He smiled and motioned Jared to follow him into the back.

For the first time in a long time, Jensen was unsure. Unsure that he could have what he wanted, unsure of where this might go, and unsure that he wouldn't get hurt. That was the thing he had been running from for a long time - the pain of another relationship. Whenever he felt that he was getting close to someone, Jensen would run rather than deal with it. He could always blame it on another tour date or a recording session or publicity to be done. Hiding in plain sight was what he did. But to want something that you might not be able to keep, that was unsettling and new.

Jared followed him into the back. Of course, he still had his notepad and pencil in hand. Another echo from last night that made Jensen smile.

As Jared leaned back against the bunk, Jensen took hold of the paper and pencil, pulling them out of his hands, and setting them aside. “Can we just talk?”

“Yeah, well, our ‘talks’ don't result in something I can write down,” the reporter said with a smirk. 

“You're not still angry?” Jensen eased in between Jared's long legs, his hands loose around the outside of those muscular thighs.

“I'm not happy with what happened, but I figure we’re even now. I'll forgive you, if you forgive me.” Jared squirmed and glanced away.

Jensen cocked an eyebrow. “How do you figure that? There's nothing to forgive you for. You were right and I was wrong. You're perfect - apparently all of my band thinks so.”

“Far from it. Remember last night? We sat in this exact spot and I tried to tell you something before we got distracted.”

“And I told you that whatever it was you had to say, it didn't matter to me.” Jensen leaned down to kiss him and to his surprise, Jared let him, even opening his mouth to allow Jensen to push his tongue in, running it along the seam of his lips.

He started to surge forward and move them back on the bunk when Jared pushed back on his chest. “I am writing a book.” 

Jensen smiled in relief, because of course, this gorgeous, smart man was writing a book and it would be brilliant.

“It's about you.”

His smile faltered for a moment, as that sunk into his brain, already too occupied with thoughts of Jared spread out on the bunk underneath him. It finally hit home that the detailed questions with his bandmates out front were for a book, not the newspaper article. He stepped back and saw Jared's face fall a little at that, but he couldn't think clearly while touching him.

“Tell me about it.”

Jared took a deep breath before speaking again, and his forehead crinkled in thought. He laced his fingers together and looked down at his battered Chuck Taylors. “My mother died. It happened about a year ago and I had nothing else but work and no one else but...” The crinkle got deeper at that. “Well, let's just say I focused on work. And then I heard your music one day.”

Jared looked up at him through his fringe of bangs, opening up entwined fingers and hazel eyes in supplication. “Your words really hit me hard. And I was a little heart struck. That was the start of it all.”

When Jensen took a step towards him, wanting to offer comfort, Jared held his hand out. “Just let me finish this, okay? And then I saw the tape. You know, the tape you made with that guy.”

Jensen couldn't care less about a sex tape of him fucking some skank guy in a cheap L.A. motel. It didn't matter to him that it was out on the internet, or that people had watched it. Hell, last night, he got off thinking about Jared watching him that way. “Jared, I know this already, I don't care…”

“I interviewed him.”

Jensen blinked in confusion. “Who? The twink? With the video camera?” 

Jared blushed. “Him, and a lot of other people. People you grew up with, teachers, old managers, old band mates, your exes. Enough people in the last six months to fill a 300-page book. The manuscript is on my laptop at home, waiting to be sent to the publisher.”

His boy was gorgeous but also thorough and capable at his job. “So, what did they say? All these people you interviewed.”

“Your old managers and band mates are understandably bitter. The exes, too. Except for the one who is still in love with you - I could tell that just from one look. Of course, that's understandable as well.” Jared smiled but he looked wary, like a puppy waiting to be swatting with a newspaper.

Jensen's smile turned into a tight frown, as he envisioned Jared with being in the same room with one of his old boyfriends. “You met with them in person? You met my exes? Some of those guys are real douchebags, Jared.”

Jared waved his hand in dismissal. “It was fine. I was more nervous to meet your mother.”

“YOU MET MY MOTHER?” Jensen yelled, as Jared flinched back, swallowing and giving a sad little nod as if agreeing that talking to his mom was the worst thing he could do to the singer, invading his privacy - his family's privacy. 

Jensen doubled over, grabbing his stomach, and Jared tried not to leap up from the bed to help, to beg for forgiveness. When the singer stood back up, he couldn't stop his laughter from bubbling out. “Shit, Jared, how'd you manage that? She doesn't talk to anyone. You must be really good.”

His amusement seemed to throw the reporter off. Jared made a couple of abortive efforts to say something before settling on, “Why aren't you angry?”

Running a hand over his lips to compose himself, Jensen shook his head and then stepped up to Jared. He was done with talking and secrets and any guilt that this man might feel for what he had done. Jensen slipped a hand behind his neck and brought him in for a kiss, not stopping until Jared came up for air.

Confusion crossed Jared's face again. “I thought you'd be angry.”

Jensen touched their foreheads together, not relinquishing his hold on Jared's neck. “Do you think I care what all those other people think? What they say about me? The only person whose opinion I care about right now is here in this room.”

“But you don't know me,” Jared whispered back.

“I know enough.” 

Jensen turned his head to the side and nudged Jared's cheek with the tip of his nose, before moving in to kiss along the column of his throat. The mark he left last night was still vivid and he kissed gently over it, while the thought - _the need_ \- to refreshing it in a few days passed through his mind. Jensen just had to convince Jared to stay.

The bus pulled to a stop, and both men looked up. They must be in Kansas City. A few minutes later, the bus driver’s voice floating back to them from the front of the bus.

“Hey, Jensen!”

He ignored the shout and continued to make his way around Jared's jaw line, mouthing and licking every spot he could find, content to draw out a string of soft sighs and gasps out of those pink lips. He began to push the boy onto the bunk, knowing they had plenty of time before the show.

“Jensen, you need to get out here!”

With a groan, he pulled back. Jared seemed a little shaky and put a steadying hand on his bicep, so when Jensen turned to go out front, he followed along behind, not losing their physical connection.

His band mates and the bus driver were standing outside the bus door in a semicircle, talking to someone, probably one of the promoters or site managers. Jensen sighed dramatically, taking Jared's hand in his, pulling him along behind him as he stepped off the bus.

A large, muscular man with dark hair and a salt-and-pepper beard pushed through the circle to stand in front of Jensen, shoving his shoulder and getting in his face.

“Where is Jared? Is he all right?”

Jared stepped out from around Jensen and his eyes got wide.

“Jeff! What are you doing here?”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the delay! This should end at 12 chapters. This WIP is not beta'd so all mistakes are mine.


End file.
